


Jailbait

by cristianoronaldo



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M, fallen extra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristianoronaldo/pseuds/cristianoronaldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(from the Fallen series) Becksillas origins</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jailbait

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fallen (High School AU)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/768339) by [cristianoronaldo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristianoronaldo/pseuds/cristianoronaldo). 



> tell me if there are typos. as usual, request anything you want.  
> this fic is the reason i'm going to fail my three tests in a few days  
> you're welcome

"It's so nice when people care. (It is also emotionally exhausting like motherfucking hell)." 

-Charles Bukowski 

+

Iker was sitting with his face in his hands, ink smeared all over his left hand and the bottom of his chin, a hopeless, exhausted expression caving his features in. Mr Beckham sat next to him, suppressing a smile at his dramatics. "You alright?" 

 

"Should I answer that how I'm supposed to answer--" He looked up, and Mr. Beckham's smile faded. "Or truthfully?" 

 

"Come on, Iker," he said quietly, trying to play the comforting teacher role, but he'd never quite been good at it. "The year hasn't even started yet. 

 

"I know. Don't remind me. I feel sick just thinking about it." 

 

The gentle smile returned. "Do you ever think you're overworking yourself?" 

 

Iker rolled his eyes. "With all due respect, sir, do you even know how much we have to do to even be considered at the schools I'm applying to?" 

 

Mr. Beckham clapped his hands together in his lap, preparing to humor Iker. "Alright, what do you have to do?" 

 

"Like, sell a fucking organ." He rubbed at his face again, and Mr. Beckham's smile returned. Iker hadn't even seemed to realize what just slipped out of his mouth, and it was pretty adorable. And then he brought his hand away from his face, eyes widening, and swore viciously under his breath. "Oh, shit, again, sorry. Shit. Oh." He clamped his mouth shut. 

 

"That's okay." Mr. Beckham bumped his shoulder playfully. "It's summer anyway. I hardly even count as your teacher in the summer." 

 

Iker perked up instantly. "Yeah?" he asked, innocently and sweetly, in a way that made his teacher look away. 

 

"I could help you," he said quickly, to take the conversation back to familiar territory. "With letters of recommendation and stuff. I could help." 

 

"Alright, I'll just stop by your office some time then." 

+ 

The campus was lonely during the summer. Xabi was there because he was on student council too, and he had to be at all the meetings, but he was busy, seemed preoccupied, and Iker didn't want to bother him with his feelings for their teacher for fuck's sake. Sergio and Cristiano were off on vacation together. He'd called, but no one picked up. He hadn't gotten a single call or text since then, and he was beginning to feel like the forgotten friend who threw away his summer for some dumbass student council leadership camp. 

 

He was wandering the empty halls, bored and alone, when he found himself walking towards Mr. Beckham's office. He heard a cabinet slam shut, a light flick on, so he approached the door, thinking why the hell not. 

 

He knocked hesitantly, and the door swung open on his first touch. "Iker." Mr. Beckham seemed happy to see him. "How are you doing?" 

 

Iker shrugged. "Alright. And you, sir?" 

 

"Please. It's David." 

 

And from then on, the formality lessened and eventually dropped out of their conversations entirely. Iker founds himself opening up, telling David what it was like to be left alone all summer, what it felt like to have such a shitty father, how he felt bad for leaving his little brother at home with no one to talk to but their parents. And David listened. He didn't tell Iker to suck it up, and he didn't tell him that his problems didn't matter. He just listened attentively, quietly interjecting stories of his own from time to time. 

 

"Iker," he said finally, "I'm going to tell you something that no one else wants to say because it's the terrible, painful truth." 

 

Iker liked him because he even spoke like an english teacher, like he was speaking from a script that was written just to pull Iker in, written just to make Iker fall in love with him. He nodded for David to continue. 

 

"Don't care about anyone." He looked at Iker for a long time. "You'll hurt a lot less." 

 

Iker looked away. "How can you say that?" His voice sounded wounded, weak, small. "I mean, aren't you married?" 

 

"Yes." Guilty. 

 

"So how can you say that?" 

 

"I didn't say that I don't care for people. I'm just telling you not to. Wouldn't it feel better if you just didn't care?" 

 

Iker rubbed at the back of his neck. "I guess. I just don't think I'm capable of that." 

 

"Don't underestimate yourself." 

+ 

And then it finally all started when Iker was getting more and more stressed out about school, the football team, student council, colleges, everything. He was a bundle of stress and bitterness, and David was the only one there to help him. Much later, Iker often wondered if things would have been different, if he had just picked up the phone and forced his friends to remember that he existed too. Iker wondered if he loved David because he was the only one there for him or if he loved him because he was meant to. 

 

They ate lunch together a lot. Sometimes David bought, sometimes he drove Iker, sometimes they just met up in his office. It was the same every time no matter where they ended up. Longing looks from Iker, cautious ones from David. 

 

And then one day, it wasn't the same. David was pacing the floor of his office when Iker arrived. He looked at Iker for a long time, and the younger boy was silent. "This isn't right," he said finally, his voice trembling with anger. 

 

Iker slowly backed into the closed door behind him, embarrassed and terrified of being found out. "W-what isn't?" 

 

And then David moved forward, and his lips were painfully close to Iker's, moving softly and quickly, just ghosting the air between them. "How I feel about you. How you feel about me." 

 

"You mean-- you..." Iker could barely breathe, let alone see clearly. He was inching back again, so he could use the closed door to support himself. "..feel?" 

 

David looked away, and there was something guarded in his eyes. Iker didn't ask right away, but he did later on, and David's marriage was falling apart. David said that sometimes he thought _he_ was falling apart, not the marriage. He said he didn't know exactly what was falling apart, but something was breaking. 

 

He kissed Iker, softly and hesitantly, and that's when it all began. 


End file.
